"Do you mind, Bobby?" Sally inquired. "The two most peaceful years of my social life were the years immediately following the day I advised Mrs. Stanley not to attempt Juliet in public. Lately, I have wished that her memory were just a bit more retentive. Tell me, has anybody seen Beatrix, this week?"
"She was at Carnegie Hall, last night."
Arlt's face brightened.
"Really?"
"Yes, I coaxed her into going. You ought to feel honored, Arlt; it is the first music she has heard, this season."
"Hasn't she been to hear Mr. Thayer?"
"No; she hasn't heard him since his first season. I tell her she has no idea how he has developed, nor how much she is losing; but she seems to have lost her love for music."
"Poor, dear girl! I don't wonder," Sally said impetuously.
But Arlt interposed.
"Isn't there a certain comfort to be gained from it?" he asked. "I hoped—I had thought music was to inspire and help people, not to amuse them."